Lying           
          In    My   Room,          
  Arms Flopped Over The Edge Of The Bed. 
      Something  Poking My Left  Hand, 
                  Something     Slimy, 
      Slithering  Around  The Fingers, 
          Up   The   Arm.           
 Is   It   Drug-Fueled   Apathy?       
          I   Don'T   Move   The  Arm. 
                                 
 Whatever It Is That'S Tasting  Me,    
 It   Moves   Further    Up,           
 Reaches    The    Armpit.             
 I   Turn  My  Head  Toward  It.       
            Looks    Like    Seagrass. 
        It'S  Kinda   Cute.         
                                 
      Once  It'S Up My Neck And  On My 
 Face,    I    Bite    It.             
     The Texture  Is Like  That  Of  A 
 Juicy                          Grape, 
    And The  Squish Tastes Like  Sweet 
                     Cucumber.     
     It'S Very Good.    And I    
 Suck   More   Of   It   In.           
             Chew    It.            
    The Seagrass Doesn'T Seem To Mind. 
                                 
      Apathy   Gone,  I  Sit  Up.     
     The Tendrils Are Stuck Under     
    My  Shirt,    Entering By The Arm 
 And Exiting  Through  The  Collar.     
    This Makes It  Hard For Me  To Push 
 More   Of   It   In   My   Mouth.      
   I  Make To Remove The Shirt, But The 
 Seagrass Finally Protests When I  Try To 
 Move    My     Left     Arm.           
      So  -  Eating  It  Is  Ok,      
        Moving  It  Is Not.